Samaritans
by MandyK
Summary: When Carson Beckett and John Sheppard go to help a planet in trouble, sea monsters and storms are the least of their worries...
1. Default Chapter

SAMARITANS part 1 Charity begins..

A/N thanks to TJ for her wonderful betaing...

oOo

Sheppard leaned back against one of the infirmary beds, arms folded across his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. A small smile played about his lips as he watched their chief medical officer disgustedly throwing equipment and medications into boxes.

"All I'm sayin'," continued Beckett, "Is why does it have to be me? Dr. Weir knows any one of my team could do this as well as I could."

"Ah, but she promised our CMO would go. It's a goodwill thing."

"It maybe goodwill for her. It's no' fa me."

"You just don't want to go through the Stargate."

"I canna see why anyone would want tae have their molecules unscrambled like tha'. Besides,… It makes me feel sick."

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm going with you."

"Now there's another thing tha's botherin' me. You coming along. It's all bound ta end in tears."

"Hey! My track record isn't that bad."

"Oh no? You should see it from ma' side. You know, you could give me a hand here."

Sheppard got up, and went over to give him a helping hand. Truthfully, Beckett was right. It didn't really have to be him that went on this mission, but Elizabeth had managed to negotiate a trade deal with a race called the Marasians, in that they would trade food and other essential supplies for medical knowledge and help. The Marasians were experiencing an outbreak of a viral illness, similar to Measles that was sweeping through their communities, causing great distress and some deaths. Dr. Beckett had worked tirelessly with samples brought back from the SGA teams to formulate a vaccine with which to treat the so far unaffected members of their society. They were also going to provide medicines for symptomatic relief of the disease.

The Marasians were a race of isolated communities, scattered across the face of a planet more water than land. They managed to communicate effectively with each other, to trade and pass on information, but they were far less technologically advanced than the Atlanteans, and had expressed reservations about the vaccination programme. Dr. Weir had promised that their chief medical officer himself would bring the vaccine, and would inoculate the community leaders, then train some of the inhabitants in how to give the vaccinations themselves.

It was a simple, straight forward mission, and as the major was still recovering from his run in with the Wraith that had killed Gaul and Abrams, Dr Weir had decided it should be the major that accompanied the doctor, light duties only.

Chief ranking military officer, and chief medical officer Elizabeth had said. How much more demonstrative of their goodwill could they get?

With Beckett still muttering under his breath, they finished packing the equipment. Half an hour later saw the pair ensconced in a puddle jumper waiting for Dr. Weir's go ahead.

"Jumper One," she said, "You have a go. Keep in radio contact once a day." She clicked off, giving them a small wave.

Sheppard looked over at Beckett, to ask if he was ready, and couldn't help a small grin when he noticed the doc had a white knuckle grip on the seat's armrests. "Ready, doc?" he asked.

"Eh? Oh, aye." Beckett swallowed convulsively. "Go ahead."

The grip tightened even more as the jumper headed towards the event horizon. A few moments later they were exiting the wormhole on Marasia's largest landmass, and Beckett let go of the breath he'd been holding.

"Right then," he said as the village came into view. "Let's get on with it. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can go home."

Sheppard set the jumper down near the village, just on it's outskirts. Although the Marasians had so far been the epitome of politeness, they had just had one too many episodes where the planetary incumbents had been as nice as you please to their faces, while planning on how to sell them out at the same time. What you saw wasn't always what you got, and despite the villagers willingness to quarter their guests, Sheppard preferred to return to the jumper at night.

As he opened the rear hatch, the Major saw several of the younger members of the village running out to greet them, and help with transporting the equipment to the village. Their friendliness was infectious and it wasn't long before there was an easy camaraderie between Sheppard and the youngsters. "_Like goes with like_," thought Beckett watching them.

A groaning, creaking noise heralded the arrival of a slow moving transport vehicle which seemed to be moving under it's own power. Some of the younger children jumped up and down excitedly as they pointed the vehicle out to Sheppard. He learned from their enthusiastic explanations that the cart was solar powered. This one was slow, they said, but there were several much faster ones.

They loaded the equipment, and some of the youngest ones onto the transport, and followed it into the village.. The Elders were there waiting, and greeted them graciously.

A spacious and airy building open to the sea breezes that were ever present on this planet had been set aside for their use, and under the influence of all this royal treatment and being in his natural element, Beckett began to mellow. It wasn't long before he'd set up shop, vaccinated the elders, and taught some of the other villagers how to perform the vaccinations themselves. Several hours after that, and the village was done, and Beckett had doubled as family doctor to several other villagers with minor problems.

Neighbouring villages had been invited for the following day, so after a pleasant meal and evening spent with their hosts, John and Carson retired to the Puddle Jumper for an early night.

The following day saw the two of them up and busy, bright and early. Sheppard soon found himself with nothing much to do, so he spent the morning teaching the local kids how to play soccer, but by the middle of the day, even that was beginning to pall. He became aware that one of the councillors, Maroni by name, was coming towards him accompanied by a serious looking Beckett.

Maroni addressed the Major. "We have just received word from one of our outlying communities that they are experiencing an outbreak like ours," Maroni said. "Dr. Beckett has offered to go there, and assist as much as possible."

Sheppard looked at the Doctor. "You sure about this, Doc.?" he asked.

"Aye, we're done here now, so if we can help, then I think we should."

"Okay, we'll load up the jumper and-"

"I'm afraid you will not be able to take your craft." At Sheppard's look, he continued ,"The community is on a heavily forested island. Access is by boat only. It will take several hours to get there, but the person who brought the message is waiting, and will take you back with him."

"A boat trip?" Beckett didn't look too happy. "How much room will there be for all this stuff?" He gestured at all the equipment lying around him.

"The boat that will take you has been built for speed rather than carrying cargo. We will put aboard as much as we can, but space is limited However,. I would suggest you take your weapons," he gestured at Sheppard's P90 that was never far from his side, "Some of our fauna is less than friendly."

"What can we expect?" questioned the major, unhappy at going into a situation with such limited ordnance and intel.

"Our oceans abound with life. Sometimes we see it, sometimes we do not. However, it is best to be prepared."

Beckett looked even less happy, but having said they would go, couldn't back down now without losing face, and possibly the trade agreement.

"Okay," said Sheppard running a hand through his unruly hair. "Just give me a few minutes to get back to the gate and contact Dr. Weir, let her know we'll be out of contact for – how long?"

"No more than a couple of days." Replied Beckett, having already been briefed by Maroni on how long it would take to get there and back.

"Okie Dokie then, I'll let Elizabeth know we'll be out of radio contact for about 48 hours. Doc, you stay here and pack up the essentials. Be back shortly."

Beckett watched as the jumper powered up, then headed in the direction of the gate. He felt misgivings watching the major go, but nothing he could put his finger on. Instead, he turned his attention to sorting out the equipment into the bare essentials they would need.

Carson became engrossed in the task, and so it seemed no time at all that the jumper was back. Sheppard exited it, and closed the rear hatch, securing it so that no curious children could get in and inadvertently cause themselves harm. He was dressed in full kit, including P90 clipped to his vest, and Beckett did a double take.

"Do you really need all tha' stuff, Major?" he asked.

"Yes I do. And so do you," he replied, handing the doctor a vest weighed down with supplies, but no P90, thankfully, just a 9mil with a couple of extra clips of ammunition. He looked ruefully at all the stuff Beckett seemed to consider was necessary, then divided it in two, filling each of their packs with as much as they would hold, and securing it before swinging it onto his back.

Beckett tried to lift his. "Bloody Hell!" he shot out, "I'll tip over backwards ."

"There's a knack to it," smiled Sheppard, helping the doctor to comfortably secure his own burden. Groaning under the strain, Beckett morosely followed Sheppard to where their guide was waiting.

Fortunately, it wasn't far to the jetty where the ship was waiting for them. To Beckett it seemed woefully small to be going out into the open sea but their guide, Dalen reassured them that the boat was regularly used to communicate between islands, and barring attacks by unfriendly sea monsters, he felt reasonably certain they would get safely to their destination.

Carson goggled at the sea-monster part, But Sheppard nudged him in the ribs and merely said that Darlen was pulling his leg. The Marasian compressed his lips but said no more, and seeing them securely aboard, cast off.

For the first three or four hours, the trip was uneventful, pleasant even. Sheppard laid back against the bulkhead, and tipped his face towards the sun, relaxing. It was almost – not quite – but almost as good as flying. The sea air was crisp, and the only sound came from the hiss of the keel cutting cleanly through the water. The boat was making it's way through clusters of islands, with deeper water between them. The major was almost dozing off, when Beckett grabbed his arm and hissed urgently.

"I didna' wan'ta worry anyone," he said anxiously, "But I'm sure I just saw – well – Nessie."

Sheppard sat up, and looked at him as if he thought the doctor had had too much sun.

"Nessie?" he repeated incredulously.

"Aye, ya know, the Loch Ness Monster."

"I know what Nessie is," he said, "But here, really."

Beckett's face was deadly serious. "Aye, and if you look behind you, you'll see it too."

Sheppard whirled round and saw, incredibly, loops of …sea-serpent heading towards them. Fast. The loops were topped by a head easily as big as their boat, with huge teeth, and great big eyes, and at the other end was a huge honkin' tail, thrashing around. He swallowed. It was heading right at them.

Dalen's face was white with fear, but he was gamely trying to steer their boat away from onrushing doom. Sheppard brought up his P90, as the creature bore down on them, and flicked off the safety. He wasn't sure just how much good the weapon would be if it decided to attack, but he had to try. It kept coming. He fired a warning burst over the creature's head, but it didn't deter it, so he took careful aim at one of its eyes, and fired again. At the last moment, the creature swerved and his shot went wide, glancing off one of the thick scales behind its head, leaving a bleeding gash. The beast screamed, no other word for it, and began to thrash. Dalen, in a panic, dived over the side. The thrashing coils began to batter the boat.

"Beckett!" yelled Sheppard. "Hold on!" But it was no use. The boat began to break up under the onslaught and Sheppard was catapulted into the water. The last thing he saw before the icy water closed over his head was the creature's thrashing tail catching Beckett, and flinging him into the side of the boat. Then he was under water, the weight of the vest and his boots dragging him down, fighting and kicking to get back to the surface.

TBC


	2. Samaritans part two

SAMARITANS part two…Danger Island

He was lying on sand. Warm, damp sand, but sand.

"Ungh." He said, opening his eyes, and spitting out the stuff that had got into his mouth.

"_Face down in sand. How the hell did that happen_?" he thought. Carefully, in consideration of his aching head, Sheppard rolled over and sat up. He was on a beach which at any other time would have gladdened his heart with the thought of surfing, and lissom girls in miniscule bikinis, but right now left him cold as the memory of what happened came flooding back. Beckett. He had to find Beckett.

Shakily, Sheppard got to his feet, and scanned his surroundings. He had washed up on an apparently tropical beach which stretched away on either side for a good half mile or so. The sun was beating down, and that together with the glare from the water wasn't helping his headache any. The sand was white, and powder soft, fringed with what looked like palm trees. A regular tropical paradise, he thought wryly.

The Major's attention was caught by a dark shape, lying half in, half out of the water, about twenty yards from his own position. Feet trailing in the soft sand, he hurried over, suspecting it might be Carson, or Dalen. It was Beckett, face down in the sand as he had been, and ominously still. Sheppard dropped to his knees beside the still figure, and tentatively reached out to feel for the other man's pulse, letting out a soft sigh of relief when he found it. Rapid and thready, but still there.

"Beckett, Carson? Can you hear me?" he asked. No response, the man was well and truly out of it. Cautiously, Sheppard turned him over, and his heart sank. Beckett was a mess. The right side of his face was shading to an impressive shade of purple, and where the sea hadn't washed it away, there were traces of dried blood. Beckett's right arm looked badly bruised where the uniform had been torn, but as Sheppard carefully felt along its length, nothing appeared to be broken. The same couldn't be said about the doctor's leg; That was definitely and without prevarication, bust. The unnatural position it was in together with the torn and jagged gash through which the gleam of pinkish white bone showed was an obvious give away clue.

The major sat back, appalled. This was way out of his league. He'd had field first aid training, and he'd seen enough, flying medevac missions, but he'd never had to deal with anything like this alone before. This is why they had doctors for chrissake. But, in the absence of medical aid, or support from Atlantis, he'd just have to do the best he could. None of Beckett's injuries appeared to be bleeding profusely, so after a quick check to feel for other broken or damaged areas he decided the best thing to do first was get Beckett out of the water, and into some shade.

Sheppard cast about for a suitable place, and saw at the top of the beach a pile of rocks with trees growing over them, which should provide shade at least. Carefully scooping up the still unconscious doctor like a child, John carried him as gently as he could the short distance and set Carson down on the cooler soft sand beneath the trees. It wasn't ideal, and later he'd have to find a better shelter, but right now, this would have to do. It was at this point that the Major realised neither of them had their packs. All they had was what was in their vests. His mood darkened just a little more. John hastily emptied all the pockets in his own vest, then the ones in Beckett's he could reach without disturbing the Scot any more than neccessary. Then, face grim, he inventoried the few things they had that could be of any use.

John's own vest yielded up a couple of field dressings, still dry as their packaging hadn't come undone, a couple of power bars and a canteen of water which he hoped and prayed the sea water hadn't contaminated, a few Tylenol, a lighter, and a couple of spare clips of ammunition for his handgun which was still, miraculously in it's holster on his thigh.

Beckett's yielded another couple of dressings, two more power bars, his own canteen still full; some totally useless bits of medical equipment e.g. a stethoscope which Sheppard put to one side, and some more Tylenol. So that was it. Ah well, he'd made do with even less before now, and he'd manage again.("_Yeah, but you were on your own that time, no injured team members to deal with then,"_) his conscience told him. Mentally telling himself to shut up, Sheppard prepared to do what he could for the worst of Beckett's injuries.

An hour later, and he was done, he hoped. John had managed to straighten and splint Carson's leg using some fairly straight sticks he'd found lying around under the trees, and his own shirt as bandaging. The arm he'd taken care of by the simple expedient of unzipping the doctor's vest, taking the injured arm out of the sleeve, and then zipping it up again, with the damaged arm held close to Beckett's body, He hoped that would do, because although it didn't appear broken, all that bruising meant it was at least going to be very painful so not moving it around much was probably a good idea. The head injury he'd left alone. It wasn't bleeding, and he felt he could do more damage prodding around, so he left it be.

Sheppard himself felt worn out, and he still had a lot to do if they were going to survive this. And he still needed to look around for Dalen. He hadn't seen any sign of the young man and could only hope the kid was ok. John was also worried that Beckett hadn't shown any sign of coming out of it yet. He'd been glad the doc was unconscious during the whole leg-setting thing, but now he wished Carson would start waking up. He knew that the longer someone stayed unconscious after a head injury the worse it might be.

Okay, now he needed to find them a better shelter. And scout around a bit, see where they were, and what was around that might help them survive. Sheppard looked down at the still unconscious doctor, now lying on his side, propped there by sand heaped up at his back and front to make sure he didn't roll over onto his back, and maybe choke. John stuffed the rest of their meagre supplies back into his own vest, and leaned down towards the still figure.

"Beckett, its John; if you can hear me, I'm just going to scout round, find a better place for you to sleep, and see if I can't find some water and stuff. I won't be gone long, if you wake up, just lie still and wait for me. I'll be back."

Sheppard stood, brushed off the sand that had accumulated, and looked down at the doctor again. Then figuring he would be more help finding them shelter, water and food, than standing around wringing his hands, he set off down the beach.

The Major decided to walk a little way around the coast, to see if he could get an idea of how big the island was and maybe find Dalen. Three quarters of an hour later, John was back where he'd started. The island was fairly small, the side they'd washed up on was sandy beach and forest, while the other side was soaring cliffs and crashing breakers. He hadn't found the Marasian, but he had found plenty of driftwood, with which to build a fire some of which he suspected might be from their boat. Better yet, Sheppard found a cave half way up one of the lower cliffs that might provide more in the way of shelter. Always providing they could both get up there. Unwilling to leave Beckett any longer, the Major returned before really checking it out. To his pleasant surprise, the doctor was awake.

"Hello, Doc," he said. "Glad to see you back with the living."

"Aye, you might be," groaned Carson, "I can't say that I feel the same pleasure."

Sheppard grinned. This was their doc alright. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I've been run over by a bloody articulated," the doctor moaned. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"If I could remember, I wouldn't be asking. Oh, ma head hurts."

"We were in a boat…."

"So. I didn't just dream up Nessie then?"

"No. That sea – monster, Nessie thing wrecked the boat, and you along with it."

"Ah knew it would end in tears. Didna say so at the beginning? What've I done to masel'? Everything hurts so much, ah canna tell."

"Well, apart from a cracked head, your arm looked pretty sore. I don't think it's broken though, but I put it like that to stop you moving it too much. And you broke your leg. I put a splint on it," he said with a hint of pride."

"So, nothin' much then," replied Beckett, heavily sarcastic. "What are we going to do now? Atlantis doesn't know what happened do they?"

"No. They won't know until we don't check in a couple of days from now. We can't expect any help from there until then."

"So we're on our own then?"

"Looks like it."

"Have you done anything like this before?" Sheppard couldn't miss the note of anxiety in the doctor's voice.

"Well, I can't say I do Robinson Crusoe on a regular basis, but this isn't the first time I've been stranded on my own away from help before."

"So I can take tha'as a yes then?" The doctor shivered.

Sheppard put a hand up to Beckett's forehead, and was dismayed to feel warmth emanating already. "Cold?" was all he said though.

"Aye, a bit," replied the doctor.

"Okay. I'll get a fire started, then I'm going to check out a cave I saw not far from here. It'll make a better shelter than this, especially at night."

Beckett was quiet while he watched the major build a fire. Truth be told, he felt rotten, and didn't have much energy for talking. Eventually a thought occurred to him.

"What about Dalen?" he asked. "Do ya think maybe he managed to get back to his own people? Maybe they'll bring help."

Sheppard didn't want to squash Beckett's hopes, but felt he had to be truthful. "I haven't seen any sign of him," he said, " We don't know how far away we were from his island. I think he probably drowned."

"Oh." Beckett lapsed into silence again, looking up as the major approached him.

"Thirsty?" Sheppard asked.

"A little. Do - do we have any painkillers?" he asked hopefully, not reassured when Sheppard looked crestfallen.

"We've got some Tylenol, that's all." He said. "We lost our packs when the boat broke up. I was hoping to swim out a bit, see if I can find them."

"Ah, well, canna be helped," replied Beckett, accent thickening as the pain grew. "Do ya think ah could have a couple of those?"

"Sure," replied Sheppard, breaking a couple out of their packaging and handing them to the doctor, following it with a canteen. He watched as Beckett took a long drink. "Better go easy on the water," he said eventually. "I don't know when I'll be able to find more."

"Oh, right." Beckett handed the canteen back.

"No, keep it for now," said the Major who by now had a decent fire going. He piled some of the wood beside Beckett, and said, "I'd like to go check out this cave. Will you be ok on your own for a bit? "

Carson nodded.

"Ok, keep the fire going if you can. Don't build it up too high, we just need a smallish one for now. I won't be too long."

The Scot nodded slightly, grimaced when he realised it was a bad idea, and closed his eyes against the glare of the sun. Despite it's warmth, and the warmth from the fire he still felt cold. When he opened his eyes again, the Major was gone.

TBC


	3. Samaritans part three

SAMARITANS part 3…Cavemen

Sheppard stumbled round the headland feeling the fatigue catch up on him. His watch told him it was early afternoon, Atlantis time, but so much had happened it felt much later. Finally, he arrived at the cliff; there was a path of sorts, that led up to the cave. Even as Sheppard made the demanding trip, he knew it was going to be difficult to get Beckett up here too. The path was only a few feet at it's widest, and strewn with the occasional boulder that had come down from higher up. On one side was the cliff face, and on the other, a sheer drop to the rocks and crashing breakers below. Not far, but enough to cause serious damage to anyone unlucky enough to take a tumble.

John made it without incident though, and pulling his 9 mil, poked his head cautiously around the entrance, concerned about any local wildlife that may have made a home there. To his ineffable relief, the cave appeared empty. Re-holstering the gun, Sheppard moved into the cave to explore.

It was cool and dim inside, a welcome relief from the bright sun and sea-glare. The cave widened out behind the entrance, the floor covered in the same soft sand as the beach, so he should be able to make Beckett reasonably comfortable. As an added advantage, it faced the sea, so it was possible they would be able to see a rescue party coming in time to get down to the beach. The disadvantage was everything they needed; water, firewood, food etc., was going to have to be carried up here too. That would mean leaving Carson alone for extended periods of time while he was off foraging. At least the Scot would be safe up here.

After making a place near to one of the walls of the cave as comfortable as possible with the limited materials to hand, John left to go and bring the doc. Beckett was as he had left him. Still awake, and he'd kept the fire going well too. Sheppard didn't miss the look of relief that crossed the doctor's face when he returned, but pretended he hadn't seen it, and instead asked how the doctor was feeling.

"I feel better," Carson replied. "Got a doozy of a headache though, but if I don't move, the rest isn't too bad."

"I found us somewhere to stay."

"Good. Is it far?" Beckett couldn't quite keep the tremor out of his voice.

"No, not too far, but there's no way you're going to be able to get up to it under your own steam. I can help you though." He ignored the look of anxiety that crossed Beckett's face. "The only problem is a supply one." He laughed inwardly at that. '_The only problem_?' he thought, but continued, "Everything we'll need will have to be carried up there, so I'm going to have to leave you alone while I fetch stuff."

Beckett was touched by the concern in John's voice. "I'm a big boy, Major," he said, kindly. "I've been looking after maself for a while now. I'm sure I'll manage for the wee while you're gone."

John nodded, acknowledging Beckett's answer, then asked, "Ready to move to our new digs?" Beckett felt far from ready, but only replied in the affirmative.

"Okay then. I reckon that if we use me as a prop, you might be able to walk part of the way."

"And the other part?" asked Beckett not sure he wanted to know.

"Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Come on, I'll help you up."

Sheppard placed Carson's good arm around his shoulders, then grasping the man's belt, gently hauled him to his feet. They stood there a moment while the Scot caught his breath again, and some of the colour that had faded as he stood returned to his face. After a few moments, Beckett nodded and whispered "Ready."

They made a slow progress down the beach, Carson gamely hobbling along, weight mainly on his good leg, the other just touching down for balance. They had to stop frequently for Beckett to regain some equilibrium, but eventually they stood at the bottom of the cliff path. To Beckett, the cave might as well have been as far away as the moon. He turned a questioning gaze at the Major who shrugged ruefully and said, "I guess this is where I get to carry you."

Carson's gaze became if anything more disbelieving. "Carry me?" he said incredulous.

"Please, Doc., We can't stay on the beach, and there isn't anywhere else I've found. This is our best option. I promise, I'll be gentle," he grinned.

Beckett considered it, then he nodded. He knew there was no other option, it just felt…unmanly, needing to be carried. A thought occurred to him. "Just how do you propose to carry me?.

"Fireman's lift," was the Major's reply. Carson nodded. The thought of being lifted like a baby had not been one he would have entertained for a moment.

"Come on, doc. You know you would do the same for me."

"Alright then. Let's get on with it." Beckett didn't mean to sound snappish, it was just the whole being hurt thing. He was usually on the other side of this, issuing orders and making people feel better. The doctor didn't like being on this side of the fence at all. "Just help me get this arm free first, or it's gonna really hurt." Sheppard helped Carson free his arm, then carefully lifted him up across his shoulders. "Comfortable?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," replied Beckett who had his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "But if I puke all down you, don't hold it against me."

"No, it'll be all against me," replied the Major, "and you get to do the laundry."

Getting up that cliff path was an experience Carson never wanted to repeat. He knew the Major was being as careful as he could be, but the cliff face was too close to prevent his battered leg from coming into contact with it occasionally. The Scot was already feeling nauseated from the concussion before they started, being upside down just hadn't helped matters at all. He'd also discovered that his ribs, while they might not be broken or cracked had certainly taken a battering, and being pressed against someone's shoulders was not something they were happy with. It was with a sigh of huge relief that Beckett finally got settled in the cave, facing the entrance and the sea.

"Mmm." He said. "Sea view. How much are they charging you for that?"

"Oh, I talked them down. Told them it was for services rendered." Sheppard was glad to hear the Doc bantering with him. He was under no illusion as to how uncomfortable that whole trip would have been, and the flushed appearance of the doctor was also worrying him, but there was little he could do right now.

Once he was sure Beckett was as comfortable as he could make him, John asked, "Will you be okay if I go and collect some more firewood? We need to get a fire going in here too. It'll get pretty cold in here later when the sun goes down, and I need to find some fresh water ."

Carson was exhausted. He could sleep while the Major was gone, and said so. John left him with the full canteen and took the emptier one with him to fill should he find water. He left with one last quick glance back at the doctor who had already dropped into a restless doze.

TBC


	4. Samaritans part 4

SAMARITANS part 4…Close Encounter

Sheppard was bone weary. His headache hadn't abated and his muscles protested the treatment they were receiving. The endless trips up to the cave with firewood were taking their toll. He kept himself in good shape but even the fittest body would cavil at the treatment he was putting it through.

John sat wearily on the sand at the edge of the sea and having taken his boots off, was enjoying the sensation of warmth against his feet and the contrasting coolness of the wavelets as they lapped at his toes. A bundle of driftwood was piled behind him ready for the next trip up to the cave, but he had decided he needed to rest, just for a few moments.

The Major was hot and tired. The sun, though past its zenith still beat down fiercely, reminding him he was thirsty. His anxiety about their dwindling fresh water supply was preventing him from keeping his own body properly hydrated; he wanted to save what little water there was for Beckett.

The doctor's worsening condition was concerning Sheppard greatly. Carson wasn't complaining, but the Major could tell he was hurting and it was a given that that leg would become infected. The bruising around the doc's eye had spread down his face and was already spectacular. He'd also helped the doctor to sit up and been alarmed by how warm Carson was already feeling. He'd given Beckett two more of the Tylenol, which would bring the fever down and ease some of the discomfort, but it wasn't enough, not by a long shot.

For now, Sheppard was taking some time out to consider their options. They didn't have any really, except to wait for rescue to arrive, which he estimated at two days at the earliest. Atlantis wasn't going to miss them until they failed to check in the day after tomorrow, then a rescue would have to be planned, and mounted. Tomorrow, John decided, he'd build some kind of beacon that could be seen from sea or air, but for now fresh water was their main priority. Sighing, he put his boots back on and decided to make one last short foray into the forest behind the beach to see if there was any drinkable water there.

Placing the bundle of wood near the path to the cave, Sheppard entered the forest. The change in temperature beneath the trees was enough to make him shiver slightly, before his sunburnt skin relished the coolness. There was no proper path, just narrow trails where the indigenous fauna moved through the undergrowth. Where there were animals though, there was likely to be water. He chose one of the larger trails and decided to follow it.

Half an hour later, the Major was becoming discouraged; the undergrowth hadn't got any denser. He'd been using his knife to mark the direction he'd come in just in case, but the trail didn't seem to do anything other than meander round the trees. So it came as a complete surprise when he found himself suddenly at the bottom of a steep rock face, and there, just in front of him was a small spring. A trickle of water only, but after tentatively tasting it, it was fresh and cool. A huge weight felt like it had been lifted from his shoulders and perhaps it was the relief at having one of their problems alleviated that made Sheppard less cautious of his surroundings. He finished refilling his canteen after drinking his fill then turned to go back and almost blundered into the first wildlife he'd seen on this island.

At first the creature didn't seem too threatening, vaguely resembling a koala bear from earth. But the resemblance was a passing one. Koala bears looked cuddly, this one had talons three inches long and teeth like a lion. Sheppard froze, not wanting to have to test out his waterlogged sidearm on the creature. For a long moment there was an impasse then the creature turned to leave revealing its back was covered in long, barbed spines. John heaved a sigh of relief; from nowhere the sigh turned into a sneeze. It wasn't much, but it was enough. The creature startled, let out a high pitched yowl, then began to turn back towards Sheppard, advancing threateningly. Sheppard backed away slowly, both hands held out placating.

"Uh, nice, thingy," he said, moving slowly, the animal watching his every move, and continuing to advance. Sheppard continued to back up, not really looking where he was going, focussing all his attention on the creature before him. A noise behind him forced John to turn his head quickly.

"Ahh, crap," he said. Another, similar animal was directly behind him, talons unsheathed, teeth bared threateningly. He remembered what Maroni had said about his need for weapons and the fact that their wildlife wasn't friendly. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, Sheppard took off, running between the animals. He'd only taken a few steps when he felt a sudden stinging pain in the back of his left calf. He let out a cry, but carried on running until he thought he'd left the 'koalas' behind. Only then did John stop to take a look.

"Shit, shit, shit." The Major wouldn't have believed it possible but his day had just got worse. Standing proud of his shredded trouser leg was several of the barbed spines. Breathing hard, Sheppard lowered himself to the ground to get a better look, not easy due to where they were. The spines were embedded deeply and a tentative tug produced nothing more than an increase in the pain he was already feeling. "Shit!" He swore again. John felt it described the situation nicely. He didn't want to stay there too long, in case the 'koalas' decided to carry on where they'd left off. Struggling to his feet, Sheppard limped back off towards the beach.

Once the sand was under his feet, he flopped down, heavily. He needed to get back to Beckett, the doctor would probably be fretting and Sheppard didn't want to leave him too long in any case. First however, he had to sort out his leg. Using his knife, the Major carefully cut up the trouser leg until the whole of the damaged area was visible. For a while, he just looked at it stupidly. There were six of the damn things embedded in his leg and because of the barbs, he didn't know if he'd be able to get them out. Carefully John tried pulling at one again. It didn't move and all he got was a cold sweat for his efforts. Using his knife again, Sheppard cut down beside the easiest to reach one, not without some difficulty and swearing on his part, but it was in too deep. He cursed again, pressing a fold of the cut fabric against the wound he had made in an effort to stop the bleeding. Eventually it stopped. John decided the best way of treating it at the moment was just to trim the spines down so they were almost level with the skin, then leave well alone until Beckett was up to looking at them; much easier said than done. It was quite a painful while later that Sheppard shakily he got to his feet again, limped over to the firewood bundle and hobbled back up to the cave.

Once he'd returned, all thoughts of getting Carson to take a look at his leg vanished. Even in the dim light of the cave Sheppard could see that the doctor was worse. The Scot was flushed and shivering; his fever had risen despite the Tylenol.

"Hey, honey," Sheppard said in an attempt at levity, "I'm home."

Beckett grinned up at him, but didn't say anything.

"I found some water, so you can drink as much as you need. Once these are empty, I'll go fill them up again."

"D-did you find anything e-else?" asked Carson through chattering teeth.

"No not yet. I thought I might swim out a bit later; see if I can find any sign of our boat. In the meantime we've got plenty of firewood and some fresh water to keep us warm and comfortable."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say, and Beckett wasn't up to making small talk. Sheppard built a fire close to the entrance of the cave, then, when it was going nicely helped the doctor to move closer where the fire could warm him. Sheppard eased himself down beside Carson, favouring his injured leg and for a while both men sat content to watch the flickering flames.

TBC


	5. Samaritans part 5

SAMARITANS part 5…Storm clouds brewing

The first rays of early morning light glimmered through the mouth of the cave, John Sheppard had never been so glad to see the dawn. The previous night was not one he would like to go through ever again and the knowledge that there was at least one more night to come filled him with gloom. He turned to check on Carson; the doctor had had a disturbed night but at least now he was sleeping peacefully. John had remembered to keep waking the man, knowing people with head injuries shouldn't sleep too long. Constantly checking on the doctor had meant the Major hadn't had any sleep either. Briefly touching Beckett to check his temperature, John was relieved to feel the doctor was cooler. Their supply of Tylenol was dwindling and he wanted to use it only when necessary. The medication wasn't all that was dwindling; the water bottles were nearly empty too.

Sheppard sighed and hauled himself to his feet, surprised when he felt momentarily dizzy. The feeling soon passed so the Major put it down to lack of food. Limping to the cave mouth, he collected the canteens and took a quick look back at Carson. Still sleeping, flushed and breathing heavily, but still asleep. Quietly he crept out, relishing the freshness of the morning sea air in his lungs.

John was quicker down the path, the numerous trips he'd made yesterday with firewood and water had made it familiar enough so that he no longer felt the need to watch his every step. He paused to watch the sun rise, smiling as it rose between banks of pink and gold coloured clouds. Mornings always made Sheppard feel more hopeful, today was no exception. His mind began to wander, planning the best place to put their beacon when he stumbled suddenly. Catching himself quickly, John felt dizzy again. Maybe he should eat, he thought to himself and was again surprised that he didn't feel hungry; in fact the thought of eating made the Major feel slightly nauseated.

Still, once he reached the beach, John sat feeling more tired than he should after such a short trip. He broke one of the two remaining power bars in half, carefully wrapping the remainder in its foil to take back to Carson. Sheppard chewed slowly, the only way to eat a power bar, and forced it down. God, those things tasted bad. He took the opportunity to check his leg again. It was a little sore and had throbbed and ached during the night. When he looked at it, all the good feelings the sunrise had engendered vanished. The area around the spines was red and inflamed, hot to the touch, but curiously numb. The skin was stretched and shiny and didn't look good at all. Ah well, John thought; be grateful for small mercies, it wasn't causing him as much discomfort as it looked like it should.

Deciding there was pitifully little he could do about it anyway, he decided to move on, wanting to get back in case Beckett woke and worried when he wasn't there. Sheppard entered the forest, keeping a wary eye out for more of the koala creatures or anything else that might take a fancy to him for their breakfast. The trip to the spring was uneventful but he realised he was going to have to find something else to carry water in. The canteens were too small and now his leg was throbbing again he didn't want to have to make this trip too often.

The Major made it back to the beach quickly enough and headed back up to the cave to check on Carson, limping more noticeably now. It still didn't hurt much, just felt heavy. Beckett was awake when he arrived back and greeted him warmly.

"Morning Major," he said. "Looks like a nice day out there."

"Yep, another lovely day in Paradise," Sheppard replied. "How are you this morning?"

Beckett's face lost some of its cheerfulness. "Do you want the polite answer, or the honest one?"

"Honest does it for me anytime."

"Honestly? Ma' leg's killing me, ma head feels like it's about to explode, I don't think there's a part of me that does'ni hurt, and if ya don't give me a hand to stand up, I won't be responsible for the consequences."

Sheppard grinned good-naturedly then leaned down to help the man up, closing his eyes when the dizziness struck again. With much huffing, panting and the occasional groan, John finally managed to get Carson standing. Then with Sheppard taking nearly all the weight, the pair moved to the cave mouth and balanced on the edge of the cliff while Beckett took care of business.

"You know," said the doctor, "Under any other circumstances, I'd book ma'sel'in here for a week's holiday." He surveyed the view for a few minutes, then grew tired and allowed John to help him back inside.

"Hungry?" asked the Major once Beckett was comfortable again.

"No, not really," was the reply, "Especially not for power bars. Now, if it were a nice bowl of Brose…" his reply trailed off.

"All I can offer is this," Sheppard replied, proffering the half power bar.

Carson looked at it and repressed a shudder. "No thanks".

"I think you should eat something."

"Oh, I think there's enough stored energy here to keep me going," for emphasisBeckett patted a stomach that had grown much firmer since they'd arrived at Atlantis. "I'd probably only lose it again shortly anyway. All I really need is fluids for now."

"Well now, that I can do," smiled Sheppard passing over a full canteen.

Beckett smiled his thanks and drank deeply. Once done, he tried to settle a bit and winced in discomfort.

"Want me to take a look at that leg again?" asked Sheppard.

"No' much point, "replied Beckett, "There's no' a lot more we can do about it while we're here." He coughed and held his ribs. Sheppard pretended not to notice.

"Look," he said "If you'll be alright for a while, I'd like to build some kind of beacon or signal so anyone looking for us will see it and get here faster.

"I'll be fine. I'm going to try to sleep again, catch up on some of the stuff I lose every time you're a guest in ma infirmary." Carson smiled to take the sting out of the words.

John returned it then limped out of the cave and back down to the beach. He spent the next weary couple of hours dragging enough firewood up to make a large bonfire. Satisfied, the Major collected more wood to take up to the cave and stopped for a rest, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated.

The day seemed uncomfortably hot and humid. Sheppard looked up at the sky and saw that it had taken on a hard brassy hue, not the soft blue of yesterday. The wind had dropped to nothing and the humidity seemed to have increased. It felt as though if he took in too deep a breath, he'd drown. The sea looked oily and flat and the air preternaturally still, hushed almost. If John had been feeling more like himself, warning bells might have gone off in his head but he was feeling unutterably weary. The dizziness seemed to be a permanent feature now, as was a dull background headache and accompanying nausea.

The sea looked inviting and on a whim, Sheppard stripped down to his boxers and waded in. The water felt soothing and cool on his injured leg. John relished the feeling and decided to swim out a little to if he couldn't see any sign of their packs or supplies. He hadn't gone far when a cramp struck from nowhere and forced him to turn back towards the beach. He made it back relatively easily, no more cramps, but the numb feeling in his leg had spread upwards and it was getting harder to bear weight on it.

The Major realised it had been an idiotic thing to do, go swimming on a completely empty stomach with an injured leg and no-one within earshot should he get into trouble. Dressing quickly, drying almost as soon as he'd got out of the water; John gathered up the waiting firewood, and limped back up to the cave.

Carson was sleeping, but the temporary respite of the morning was over. The Scot's fever had climbed again. He was muttering in his sleep, disjointed half sentences, but obviously distressing. Sheppard watched him for a few minutes while he rebuilt the fire, then decided to have another look at the Beckett's leg while the man was sleeping. Peeling back some of the bandaging, John stared in dismay. The skin was dull and red over the damaged area and already oozing purulent material. The Major replaced the strips of his shirt, wondering just what the hell he was supposed to do now, when he became aware of a pair of blue eyes staring at him.

"Told you no' to bother," said Carson. "It's no' gonna get any better while we're here." He closed his eyes again. "Got more of tha' Tylenol?"

Wordlessly Sheppard handed him a couple of the pills, passing the canteen for Beckett to wash them down with.

"Thanks, feels better." The man was shaking with chills, so John wasn't ready to believe him. He added some wood to the fire and sat back, enjoying the sensation of doing nothing. It couldn't last long, he still had to build the beacon, find something larger to carry water in, maybe even find something they could eat.

After a while, Beckett seemed to be sleeping again, though restlessly. John decided time was wasting, he'd better get on. As the Major exited the cave, the heat hit him as if a furnace door had opened; making the headache he'd been tolerating much worse. He was glad for Beckett's sake that the cave's interior stayed cool. Sheppard limped down the path again, clutching the empty canteens. First job, fill them again and find something bigger to fetch water in.

Sheppard wandered along the beach, looking for a hollow bit of firewood, large shell, anything to use as a water carrier, but without much success until he got to where the sand gave way to rocks. There, clinging tenaciously to the sharp boulders were some of the largest limpet-type things he'd ever seen. At last, he thought, we caught a break. Using his knife, he managed to pry away about four of the large creatures, thinking that even if they weren't edible, their shells could be useful.

John limped back to the cave, as excited as a schoolboy to show Beckett what he had found, but Carson was past caring. His face was pale except for two spots of red on each cheekbone and he was burning up, muttering restlessly.

Sheppard prised the creatures out of their shells, then skewered them on sticks and placed them over the fire. Maybe, he thought, they'd taste better than power bars, and would be useful to eke out their food rations. While they cooked, he took the empty shells down to the shore, and scoured them clean with sand. The heat hadn't abated and now a hot, wet breeze had sprung up, blowing in from the sea and the wavelets were becoming bona-fide waves.

The Major raised his head to take a look and saw far out, a line of dark indigo stretching across the horizon where the sea met the sky. Sheppard's heart plummeted as he realised what it meant. A storm, a big one by the looks of it, was headed right for them.

TBC


	6. Samaritans part 6

SAMARITANS Part 6

A/N: thanks to all you wonderful folk out there for reviewing this, it keeps the plot bunnies hopping.And thanks to B7Kerravon for the loan of Dr. Lawrence.

Stormy Weather

"What is it with the Pegasus galaxy and storms?" Sheppard asked himself out loud. "God dammit." He added realising he would have to break up the bonfire beacon from the beach and carry it up to the cave to keep dry.

The Major would also have to get in a decent supply of water in case they were holed up for a while. A second glance at the sky showed how little time he had left as the storm clouds had advanced rapidly; the sea taking on a leaden quality, which looked unreal. Gathering up armfuls of wood, he forced his numb leg to move as fast as it could up to the cave. By the time John had brought up all the wood, he was exhausted, his leg would barely work and he still needed to fetch water. Beckett was awake, not quite with it, but enough to know something untoward was going on.

"Wha's happenin'?" he asked.

"A storm's coming," panted Sheppard. "I had to bring all the wood for our beacon up here to keep it dry, gotta go get some more water." He limped over to Carson and leaned down to collect his canteen, then John found himself on the floor beside the doctor.

"Major?" asked Beckett sharply.

"Nothing," lied the Major. "Just…just tired. Gimme a moment." For a few moments John lay there, dizzy, trying to catch breath that didn't want to come, then gradually he felt better, and sat up. Carson was looking at him owlishly.

"You alright?" the doctor asked.

"I am now," The Major replied breezily. "Really. How about you?"

"Oh, just dandy," was the reply, rather ruined by the harsh cough which accompanied it.

Sheppard bit his lip. He really wanted to get Beckett the hell out of here, somewhere with proper medical attention, not his bodged first aid and now this storm…

"Ok," John said, prepared for now to take it on face value. "I'll go get us some more water, then we hole up and wait for the storm to pass."

Carson nodded and lay back, face twisted at the pain movement caused. Sheppard looked at him again; decided time was wasting and pushed himself up, bracing his leg to prevent it from giving out. He looked at the charred remains of the limpet creatures he'd tried to cook earlier, but realised in all honesty, the way he was feeling, they probably wouldn't have stayed down long anyway. Limping, Sheppard made his way out of the cave and down the path into the rapidly darkening day.

Dr. Weir stood by a gurney in the infirmary, where McKay was resting. Once again, the physicist had managed to injure himself attempting to activate an Ancient device which had promptly blown up in his face. Dr. Lawrence had given him some initial treatment, but McKay was now insisting that Dr. Beckett be brought back to treat him 'properly'. Gauze pads covered Rodney's eyes, the skin beneath the bandages and all over his face reddened and beginning to swell ominously. Dr. Lawrence was attempting to apply burn ointment to the area but Rodney was being his usual obnoxious self, eventually demanding that the physician stop and await Beckett's return.

"This will help," said the doctor, exasperated.

"So you say, but while I appreciate your help, it stings and I want Carson. Elizabeth, you said yourself that Beckett should be called back."

"Yes, I did, but he went to help a more isolated community, he's out of radio contact."

"That was days ago! Carson should be back here now, to help people here who get into trouble."

Elizabeth's face twitched, but she kept her voice even when she said, "I suppose it is time he was back and with the Wraith coming it wouldn't hurt to have Major Sheppard back on base either."

"Exactly." McKay's voice was smug.

Weir turned her attention back to Dr. Lawrence. "Despite what he says, you're doing just fine. I'll go and see if the Marasians can call Major Sheppard and Dr. Beckett back early."

Dr. Weir left, Lawrence couldn't help but sigh with relief in anticipation of the Scotsman's early return. Really, it had been a trying few days with Beckett gone. "Dr. McKay!" he rapped out smartly. "Keep still. This wouldn't be half so painful if you didn't wriggle..."

Maroni was working at his desk, when his secretary interrupted him. "Forgive me sir," he said, "But a message from Kathlos has arrived. They are asking if you sent the Atlantean Doctor? It would appear he has not arrived yet."

The Marasian put down his pen and looked perturbed. "They should have arrived yesterday as arranged." He paused, and then added "I will speak to Kathlos myself."

Several minutes later, he returned looking even more worried. "No one has heard from them since they left and neither has there been any contact with Darlen. Are we able to contact the people of Atlantis?"

"I do not think so."

"Very well. Have someone wait by the Stargate in case they try to contact us. Let me know as soon as they do."

The secretary nodded his assent and left to send a messenger. Maroni sat back in his chair and stared out of his window at the sea, his expression one of deep concern.

Beckett sat by the fire, feeding it occasionally with bits of wood. He hated being like this, hated hurting and not being able to help. He knew he was in trouble, his leg was definitely infected, his medical training recognised the smell, thank God not gangrene, but still… the Major was doing his best to keep them alive, but Beckett knew there was something more to Sheppard's own condition as well and he could do nothing to help. Carson was trying to stay positive, but now a storm? What was with this galaxy and storms, he thought, unconsciously echoing Sheppard's own earlier. Despite his best intentions to stay awake and be more helpful when John returned, Beckett's eyelids began to droop and soon the doctor was sleeping again.

By the time Sheppard made it back to the cave with the water, the wind was almost stronger than he could stand up against. Horizontal rain had soaked the Major through and he was shivering as he piled more wood onto the fire. The numbness in his leg was worrying, as was the deep throbbing pain that was spreading up into his groin. He wasn't worried so much for himself as for Beckett. If he should become incapacitated, then the Scot didn't stand a chance. There wasn't much going for the doctor now, but the odds would shorten even more if he was out of the running. The Major had been concerned that he hadn't managed to bring back as much water as he wanted, but with the amount that was falling out of the sky, he should be able to collect enough in the limpet shells to keep them going.

Once John had managed to get his breath back, he checked on the doctor again, mouth tightening in worry at what he saw. The light in the cave was dim, the only illumination coming from the fire, but even in that poor light, Sheppard could see Beckett was getting worse. His friend was trembling, shivering, and only half aware, his face flushed and sweaty, the bruising melting into the florid colour of the man's face.

Scooting over, trying not to put much weight on his own injured leg, Sheppard put a comforting hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"How you doing, Doc?" he asked.

"Is tha' you, Major?" replied Beckett. "Wha' happened ta tha lights? Ah canna find ma medical kit. Where is it? Did Rodney hide it?"

Stomach clenching with worry, Sheppard tried to reassure him. "You lost it when we went into the water, Doc, remember?"

"Ah didni like swimmin'. Why would ah go inta tha water? Where is it? Where tha hell is it?"

"Easy, Doc, it's ok, you didn't lose it…its back in Atlantis," John hoped he was saying the right thing.

"Back in Atlantis? Where are we then?" Beckett's voice trailed off into a paroxysm of coughing.

"Aaah crap…hurts…" he gasped when it was over. "Where are we? Wha's happenin?"

Sheppard swallowed, feeling fatigue and dizziness sweep over him. He rubbed his free hand over his face, grimacing when it scratched against a day's worth of beard. "We're on Marasia," he reminded the Doctor. "Remember, we came to help them?"

Beckett looked at him blankly for a moment then wiped his own hand shakily across his face. He closed his eyes wearily, "Sorry, sorry," he whispered, "Ah remember, vaccinations…"

Another paroxysm of coughing shook him, Carson clutched at the Major grimly until it was over, then lay back spent. Sheppard helped Beckett with the canteen, water soothing the doctor's parched throat then both men sat back, listening to the howling wind outside the cave and prepared to wait out the storm.

TBC


	7. Samaritans part 7

SAMARITANS, part 7

A/N thanks guys for all the reviews,I think it's wonderful that so many of you have sent one.

Help coming

Ford and Teyla stepped through the Stargate to find themselves immediately greeted by one of the Marasians. After introductions had been exchanged, Teyla asked to be taken to Dr. Beckett. "We have come to take him home," she explained.

"Please come with me," replied their escort. "Maroni wishes to speak with you".

Exchanging a glance, the pair stepped down from the gate platform and followed behind the Marasian. Maroni was already waiting at the edge of the village to greet them. After the initial pleasantries, Teyla once again requested to be taken to Dr. Beckett.

"I'm afraid that isn't possible," replied Maroni. "Yesterday, he and Major Sheppard left for Kathlos, an outlying community, to assist them as he has here."

"We know this," interjected Teyla smoothly "But we were hoping he would have returned by now."

There was a short pause. "Unfortunately, it would seem they never arrived. We have lost contact with your people and their guide, Dalen. We have asked the people of Kathlos to begin a search, but so far, they have found nothing. Their efforts have been further hampered by a hurricane which is blowing in the area."

Teyla and Ford exchanged another glance. "If you will excuse us," said Teyla smoothly, "We will return to the Stargate and inform Dr. Weir. She may be able to send further assistance."

Maroni agreed and before long, they were standing in front of an open wormhole, Ford informing to Dr. Weir of the current situation.

"So, we need a pilot for the Jumper, Ma'am," he finished.

"Let me get this straight," Elizabeth's voice was distorted slightly by the radio, but still sounded irritated. "Dr. Beckett and the Major went to an outlying community yesterday, have since vanished and no-one can find them because there's a hurricane?" Her voice rose.

"Yes Ma'am." Ford could be succinct when he needed to. There was a short pause and Ford imagined Dr. Weir closing her eyes in that 'give me strength' expression.

"Very well," she sighed. "I'll send Markham through. He can pilot the jumper for you…and Ford?"

"Yes Ma'am?"

"Bring them back quickly…and in one piece."

"Yes Ma'am, Ford out." The wormhole snapped closed and Ford turned to Teyla. "As soon as Markham gets here, we'll start a search."

"What about the hurricane?"

"We can fly above it if we have to. We may be able to locate them via the life signs detector even through the storm, in which case we wait it out, then go in and pick them up."

Major Sheppard meanwhile was having problems of his own. As the storm increased in intensity, Beckett's fever had risen. So had his own, but he was too focussed on the doctor to take much notice of himself.

Carson was burning up, thrashing round in fever induced nightmares, mumbling incoherently. An occasional word came out in perfect clarity, leaving the Major no illusions that Beckett's hallucinations were pleasant. Sheppard had given up trying to stop the doctor from fighting the nightmares. He'd managed to wrestle the man's injured arm back into the vest to stop him from flinging it around and causing it more damage. John was no doctor, but even he could tell that Carson's fever was getting dangerously high and knew he had to do something soon. He'd tried dissolving a couple of the Tylenol in water but Beckett had spit them out; Sheppard had to admit they tasted pretty nasty. He'd moved the Scot as far away from the fire as he could, but it wasn't enough; he felt at a loss as to what to do next.

A blast of cold air accompanied by freezing rain blew through the cave entrance hissing into the fire. Beckett moved and tossed restlessly beside him calling for Perna. Sheppard looked at Beckett, then at the cave entrance and finally at the doctor again. His mind seemed somehow fogged, but then an idea came to him.

"Carson? Carson, I've got to try to cool you down so I need a little help here, ok? His only reply was a continuation of the ramblings that had been going on for a while. Quickly he stripped off as much of Beckett's clothing as he could, mainly shirt and T-shirt, then awkwardly hoisted him up, putting Carson's good arm across his shoulders. Then using the cave wall for support pulled them both into an upright position. For a moment Sheppard stood there, waiting for his own dizziness to pass, then praying his injured leg would take the strain, he hobbled them both to the entrance, and out into the storm.

As they left the shelter of the cave, the Major questioned the wisdom of his actions as the wind, shrieking like a banshee threatened to suck them off the rain slicked path and blow them into the swirling maelstrom of raging seas and flying spume below. The cliff face shook under the onslaught of the huge waves crashing into it; bursts of spray were flung up high by the force of the water, then snatched away by the wind and blown against the rock face. There was a peculiar thrumming noise in the air, a sound he'd never heard before, not even during the height of the storm in Atlantis.

The rain drove into them like tiny shards of glass, making Sheppard gasp. The combination of rain and spray combined to take his breath away, it was like trying to breathe under water as he fought to keep their balance against the relentless pressure of the wind. Despite the fact it was still day, the storm tossed sky made it virtually as dark as night, rendering it even more difficult to see where he was going. The path was slippery, wet, and treacherous both with rain and the runoff from the cliff, but he wasn't intending to move far from the mouth of the cave. Using his own body to shield Beckett from the worst of it, he pushed the by now unresisting sick man up against the sheer rock face and held him there. The sleeting rain, wind and spray seethed around them, trying to pluck the men from their precarious position and dash them into the sea below.

Carson was sunk in a miasma of memories, confusing and mixed up. The Wraith, the planet Hoth, tic-Wraith and other things he'd long ago thought were buried had resurfaced and were tormenting him in his fevered delusions. John Sheppard's face wavered in an out occasionally, but he couldn't tell what was real, and what was fever dreams anymore. He came back to reality suddenly, cold water slapping into his face. For a moment, he struggled, but then Major Sheppard's shouts brought him to his senses.

"Carson! Carson! For God's sake, stop struggling!" screamed the Major over the noise of the storm.

Beckett did as he was told, and stopped fighting the Major. "What the Hell are you doing?" he screamed back.

"You were burning up. I had to cool you down, I didn't know what else to do" he shouted apologetically

Beckett, not having the strength to shout back anymore, concentrated instead on not slipping and pushing them both over the edge, keeping a tight hold on the panic feelings he was having as the wind snatched his painfully drawn breath away.

Sheppard had no idea how long he stood there. The noise and battering he was taking from the elements deprived him of his sense of time leaving him numb and uncomprehending. Very soon though, he began to feel cold, feeling his strength draining away and decided enough was enough, it was time to get back into shelter. Marshalling his thoughts, trying to keep himself coherent, he turned his focus from the storm, and back to the man he was trying to help. Beckett appeared to be unconscious, sunk into a stupor that he himself was fighting against. Struggling with numb hands and trembling legs, John managed to haul the unresisting man back into the relative comfort of the cave. At first, the absence of wind, rain and thrumming wind left his ears ringing, but after a few minutes, he was able to hear again.

Sheppard laid Beckett back down on the soft sand of the cave floor, next to the fire, and tried to dry him off as best he could by simply trying to wipe the water away. At least Carson felt cooler to touch now, and wasn't mumbling incoherently anymore, though his silence was as unnerving as the mumbling had been.

Shivering uncontrollably he added more wood to the fire until he had a decent blaze going, quickly dressing the still quiescent doctor in the dry clothes he had taken off earlier. In the flickering firelight, the bruising covering Beckett's chest and arm looked horrendous, and Sheppard could only hope there was no internal bleeding. Finally, having done all he could to make Carson as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, John sat back himself, totally exhausted. He wanted to keep watch, but despite his best intentions, the lack of sleep, constant anxiety and his own deteriorating health caught up with Sheppard and his eyes slipped closed. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

High above the storm, looking down from the advantage of space, Ford and Markham's expressions were grave.

It was Ford who finally put their collective thoughts into words. "If they're caught out in that…" he began.

Markham just nodded, eyes focused on the heads up display in front of him, where two dots had suddenly appeared. "I think I've got them," he said, excited. Ford leaned forward to get a better view.

"You sure that's them?" he asked. Markham gave him a withering look. "Hey, all I'm saying is it could be anything," countered Ford.

"I'm pretty sure it's them, there's nothing registering anywhere else and there were a whole lot more than that when we flew over Kathlos a while ago."

"Ok, mark their position, we can go take a look as soon as the storm clears, and pick them up."

"Uh-oh," from Markham.

"What?"

"They've gone. The life signs have just…gone." Both men exchanged looks.

"Well, mark the position anyway," said Ford grimly, "And as soon as we can we'll see what we can find."

TBC


	8. Samaritans part 8

SAMARITANS Part 8

A/N; again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it makes my day!

Help's Almost There

Ford held his breath as Markham skilfully piloted the jumper down through the eye of the storm. The cloud ceiling was low, but within a matter of a few minutes they were skimming over a storm-tossed sea, heading towards an island dead ahead. The jumper shook and dipped as the powerful winds buffeted the tiny craft; it was taking Markham all his concentration just to keep it flying.

At first glance things didn't look too hopeful. A quick pass over the island showed a small, roughly circular land mass; dizzying cliffs on one side with a more sheltered sandy beach area on the other. It was there that they decided to concentrate the search, focussing on the beach area itself and the small forest behind it. Their efforts were unrewarded. Markham was about to suggest heading back into space to wait out the storm passed when Teyla suggested flying more slowly in a circular pattern over the shore and the lower cliffs bordering the bay. They were all aware that time was passing and that the small window of relative calm within the eye was a short lived event. Markham could see on the heads up display just how fast the other side of the eye wall was rushing towards them

"We're only going to have time for one pass," he said, angling the jumper to fly across the bay area.

"Then we need to find them now," replied Teyla.

"If we don't, it'll be a few more hours before the storm clears enough for it to be safe to try this again." With that thought in mind, the three redoubled their efforts to find the Major and Dr. Beckett.

The waves were huge, enormous breakers crashing onto the beach, the storm surge having left very little sand exposed. The jumper skimmed the tops of the water looking for any sign of their missing friends, feeling the air turbulence caused by the huge seas. Suddenly Markham excitedly pointed out a cave entrance visible in the cliff they were approaching. Quickly he slowed the craft, turning it so that it pointed towards the cave mouth. It was Teyla's sharp eyes that saw him first.

"Aiden," she said urgently, pointing towards the cave.

Ford looked to where she was pointing and saw the Major looking rough and the worse for wear, but alive. He let out a relieved breath, watching as Sheppard waved furiously.

"Can we get them out?"

"Not now, no time," replied Markham who was keeping a check on the approach of the oncoming eye wall.

Ford tried raising the Major on the radio, but with no result. Sheppard had stopped waving and was looking at them expectantly, but there was nothing they could do as yet.

Teyla spoke up suddenly. "If we opened the rear hatch, would it not be possible for one of us to get to the cave and provide assistance?"

There was a short pause while Markham weighed the risks. "If we can do it in a few minutes," he said, turning the craft even as he spoke. Ford rushed to the back, and began opening the rear hatch. Immediately wind rushed in, dangerously destabilising the puddle jumper.

"Ford!" yelled Markham, fighting the air currents.

Frustrated, Ford began closing the hatch again. He shouted to the Major that they would be back once the storm let up, but the wind whipped the words away, and he didn't know if his CO had heard. The rear hatch closed with a thump and calm prevailed inside again. Dejected, Ford returned to the co-pilot's seat, watching disinterestedly as Markham pointed the nose up at a steep angle, flying them up and out of the eye before the onrushing winds sent the little craft spinning out of control into the rocks below. Behind them, Major Sheppard watched them go; realising why they had to leave, cursing the storm and seeking shelter back within the cave itself as the wind began to scream again.

Sheppard had been dozing fitfully by their fire, keeping it going and worrying over Beckett. The Doctor had roused once briefly after their excursion into the storm, but after that, had become unresponsive, alternately shaking with chills, or burning with fever. Sheppard tried to soothe him during the hot periods, wiping his face and exposed skin with cool water, or held him during the chills, hoping his own body warmth would help during the worst of the shivering fits. John's body was hot, though he wasn't fully aware of it, all he felt was a deep numbing cold. He felt chilled to the core, unable to get warm no matter how hot he made the fire.

Carson was mumbling in delirium again; talking or calling out to people John didn't know. Some of the conversations the doctor was having with himself were pleasant, amusing even, but most weren't. Sometimes Beckett would become belligerent, obviously not seeing Sheppard and fought off John's attempts to calm him. The Major was exhausted and didn't know how long he could keep this up. Finally, Beckett quietened again; John used the time to slide out from beneath Carson's hot body to get a drink.

At least water wasn't a problem and it was just as well. Sheppard seemed to have an unquenchable thirst, but his body didn't seem to be able to hold onto the water he drank, as a noisome patch at the back of the cave demonstrated. Getting water into Beckett was another problem. Either the Doctor was so out of it that the water dribbled out again, or he choked, or worse, he was awake and fighting demons of his own, then John found it hard to get near enough to give him water.

Sheppard was sitting idly poking at the fire, Carson sleeping as he contemplated trying to drink something again, the last time his stomach had violently emptied itself, when he thought he heard a jumper fly past. Staggering to his feet, he stumbled to the cave entrance in time to see a puddle jumper slow then hover right in front of him. He almost thought he'd cry, the relief was so great, but instead contented himself with a heartfelt 'thank you' to whatever deity may have been listening.

Thank God, they'd been found. Even the sight of the eye wall steaming towards the island couldn't stop the rush of elation. John watched as the jumper hovered, then began waving frantically in case they hadn't seen him. The small craft turned, the rear hatch beginning to open. "Are they Crazy?" he thought, noticing it begin to dip and bob in the wind. The hatch closed again and Sheppard felt the elation slip a little as their would-be rescuers sped away and up out of the way of the storm. He'd thought he heard Ford yell something about how they'd be 'back as soon as the storm let up', but couldn't be sure. So, no quick rescue then. He sighed, and hobbled back into the cave. Just a few hours more…

Ford was fretting. To him, the storm's progress seemed intolerably slow. Markham had taken up station behind the hurricane, tracking it from space, waiting patiently for it to move on far enough to retrieve the Major and Dr. Beckett. They'd flown back to the stargate and informed Dr. Weir they'd found the missing pair, or at least one of them and she had promised a medical crew on standby. Now all they had to do was wait but he wasn't being very patient. Finally Markham announced that the wind speed over the island had dropped to a safer level, and felt they could go back.

"Finally!" Huffed Ford, as Markham began the descent. They landed the jumper on the beach, as far away from the waterline as they could. Then, putting together as many supplies as possible to carry; exited the jumper and made their way towards the cave.

This time it was Beckett who heard the jumper arrive. The Major had finally dropped into a restless sleep, Carson had woken and been for once, reasonably lucid. Looking over at Sheppard he could see even in the dim firelight that the man looked awful. Five o'clock shadow was giving way to beard, dark smudges under his eyes and his face was gaunt, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. His face was pale but for two smudges of higher colour over the cheekbones. Beckett knew that he himself was probably no picture painting at this point, but lacked the energy to care. He felt totally exhausted, drained by the battle his body was fighting with the infection raging in his body. His leg was agony, raw and red hot and he was terrified of moving it. This was definitely the last time Carson was going on a mission. Things just didn't work out for him when he went off world. Of course, if they weren't rescued soon, going off world again would be a moot point. The Scot felt very thirsty but being reluctant to wake Sheppard, was trying to reach for a drink when he thought he heard a jumper fly past. Beckett had no recollection of the jumper's earlier visit and was worried that if they didn't attract the crew's attention, they might never get off this planet alive.

"Major!" he said as loudly as he could, dismayed at how weak his own voice sounded.

Carson tried again, as Sheppard hadn't stirred.

"Major!" This time there was a little more force behind it and he was rewarded by Sheppard open his eyes.

"Carson?" he questioned blearily.

"Ah think ah just heard a jumper fly past," he croaked, throat dry.

Working on autopilot, Sheppard reached over and passed the doctor a canteen.

"Whad'da'ya say?" he asked again, still not fully awake.

"Ah said, ah think a jumper flew past, just a wee while ago." He accepted the canteen and took a long refreshing drink.

Sheppard suddenly realised the wind was no longer screaming and howling outside. "A jumper?" he asked again, coming fully awake now.

"Tha's wha' ah said," replied Beckett, the small amount of activity involved in talking and drinking having exhausted him again. He lay back, trying to get more comfortable, an impossible task.

John stood quickly, then found himself flat on the floor again when his injured leg refused to take any weight.

Beckett looked at him interestedly. "Wha' jus' happened?" he asked, fading fast.

"Nothing," replied Sheppard ruefully, "Leg's just gone to sleep, must have been lying on it funny."

"Oh." And Beckett was out again.

Sheppard stood more slowly this time and locked his knee before trying to bear weight on it. It worked and he hobbled slowly to the entrance, clutching the wall for support, wondering how it seemed such a long way to the cave mouth. He was rewarded by seeing a watery sun lighting up the seascape outside. The wind still blew, but much less force than before. Clutching at the wall, John breathed the fresh air gratefully, feeling it help to clear his fuzzy head. Hearing voices, he let go of the cliff with the intention of going down to meet them, but his leg wouldn't co-operate. The sun suddenly seemed to be in the wrong place and before Sheppard knew it, he was falling…

TBC

Heh, heh, another cliffie, rubs hands together evilly...


	9. Samaritans part 9

SAMARITANS Part 9

A/N : Wow, all these reviews. Thanks guys. Just a short part this time, but only one more to go...

Rescue

Ford, Markham and Teyla loaded their packs with any equipment that might be needed, food, water and first aid kits, then left the jumper and started towards the cliff. The sun was making a welcome appearance, but the going underfoot was treacherous from the runoff after the storm. Walking single file they hiked up the cliff path towards the cave, when Ford thought he heard a shout.

Moving quickly on ahead he came round a corner just in time to see Major Sheppard lose his footing and begin to slide towards the edge. Mindful of the still turbulent water beneath, not to mention the sharp rocks, Ford threw himself forwards, managing to catch the Major just before he went over. Panting, he pulled his CO back to safety.

Sheppard lay on his back; eyes closed for a minute, then opened them and said, "Thanks Ford…really thought I was a goner then…"

There was another pause while both got their breath back, then Sheppard added, "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."

Ford smiled his boyish grin, saying, "I could say the same for you, sir. What happened?"

"Long story Ford…long story. Give me a hand."

Scrambling to his feet, Aiden extended a hand to his CO, noticing how hot Sheppard's hand felt as he helped him to his feet, then steadied the man as the Major showed signs of going down again.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"I've been better," admitted John, "it's been a long couple of days."

Teyla approached them. "Where is Dr. Beckett?"

"He's inside," Sheppard gestured vaguely in the direction of the cave. "He's in pretty bad shape, got knocked about quite a bit when our boat was destroyed."

Bracing his numb leg, he hobbled inside the cave, moving quickly across to the doctor and knelt carefully down beside him.

"Carson…Carson," he said, gently shaking the Scot when he wouldn't immediately rouse.

"'S'matter?" responded Beckett, not opening his eyes. "Five more minutes, Mam."

"Carson its John. Help's here…they found us."

Teyla knelt down on the opposite side of Beckett. "What happened?" she asked, breaking out one of the first aid kits.

"We were in a boat that got attacked by some sort of sea creature. Last thing I saw before going under was Beckett getting the stuffing knocked out of him when its tail turned the boat into matchsticks. Next thing I knew, we were on this island. I don't think what you've got in that pack is gonna help much. We really need to get him back to Atlantis. His leg's broken and I know it's infected. There's lots of bruising on his chest and arm too and he's running quite a fever. Oh, and don't forget the concussion."

Teyla gently peeled back some of the makeshift bandaging Sheppard had applied to Beckett's leg. She looked questioningly at the Major. He shrugged ruefully.

"We lost everything when the boat went down. No packs, no weapons, just the canteens. I had to make do with what I could find."

She said nothing, merely nodded, and replaced the bandages. Beckett had hardly stirred.

"I agree with the Major," she said to Ford and Markham. "There is very little we can do to help here. We should get them back to Atlantis."

Markham said "There's a stretcher in the jumper. I'll get it," and left.

"How about you, Major?" asked Teyla. "You seem to be unwell yourself."

"I'm tired," he admitted, "it's been a difficult two days; no food, no sleep, and I ran into some of the…er…local inhabitants…got a nice memento stuck in my leg."

"Let me see," demanded Teyla.

Sheppard peeled back the leg of his pants.

"That will also need attention."

"I know it will," he said, "But we can worry about it when we get Beckett back where I know he's going to get looked after." John sat back, and closed his eyes, content to let others do the running about for a while. When he opened them again, Markham had returned with the stretcher; the pilot and Ford were loading Beckett onto it. Sheppard winced as Beckett cried out even though they were being as gentle as they could.

"Have you got any morphine?" he asked Teyla.

"Yes, but we can not give any to Dr. Beckett, as he has a concussion. He taught us this himself."

Sheppard nodded, but still, he hated seeing Carson in so much pain. Teyla put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It will be painful for him to be moved," she said, "But once he is in the jumper, it is a short trip back to Atlantis."

The Major agreed but the trip down to the beach wasn't one any of them would forget in a hurry. Every jolt to the stretcher caused Carson acute discomfort and though the Scot tried to hold back, it only made the times he did cry out the worse to bear. Sheppard found that Teyla stayed pretty close to his side on the trip back down the path, John grateful for the support. Now there was someone else to take over, the fatigue was overwhelming, and his own leg was getting worse, though he wasn't ready to admit to it until he'd seen Beckett safely back. After the third or fourth time his leg had given out he was only too glad to have Teyla put his arm across her shoulders, and take some of the weight.

She had been right, once they were comfortably settled in the jumper; it had seemed only a short time before they were back at the Stargate. Maroni had turned out with some of his villagers to see them off, feeling somewhat responsible for what had happened to them. He asked Sheppard about Dalen but the Major could only reply in the negative, and Maroni hung his head in sorrow. John asked for their condolences to be passed on to Dalen's family, and both parties assured each other that the unfortunate events would in no way hinder the trade agreements previously reached. Once short goodbyes had been said, the wormhole back to Atlantis was established and the puddle jumper made its way home.

TBC


	10. Samaritans past 10

SAMARITANS part 10

The Obligatory Infirmary Scene

**A/N: Thanks to Kerravon for the loan of Dr. Lawrence, and all the technical advice in this chapter. Hope I got it right.**

The jumper bay was a hive of activity; Sheppard was just trying to stay out of the way. Dr, Lawrence and his team of nurses and medics were working on Beckett, getting him stable enough to be moved to the infirmary. The makeshift bandaging had been cut away just enough so that the wound could be seen and Sheppard was getting confused with medical orders being snapped at the team, and questions being directed no less abruptly at him. Finally the good doctor was satisfied that Carson would make it as far as the infirmary's surgical suite and Sheppard got one last glimpse of the Scot as he was rushed off. He looked as pale as the blankets that he was swathed in, bags of IV fluids swinging from their poles as the crew raced to get him in to surgery.

The Major looked up to find himself under Dr. Lawrence's scrutiny. The physician was in a hurry to get to Beckett but knew the Major needed attention too. He took in the flushed appearance of the man and the glazed expression that was turned up to him. "How are you feeling, Major?" he asked.

Sheppard gave the standard answer. "I've felt better, Doc. I'm tired and could do with a shower?" The last was asked hopefully. Then, "Will Carson be ok?"

"I think so. It depends on what we find when we get to work, but…you did a good job back there Major," Sheppard shrugged depreciatingly, "I'll see you in the infirmary when I'm done with Dr. Beckett." He regarded the man again. "Go straight to the infirmary Major, one of my team will see you there. No shower until we've looked you over. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better catch up with them," he waved in the direction his team had left in moments before.

Sheppard nodded. "See you there later, Doc," he said to the man's retreating back, but Lawrence was already gone. He stood, swaying as the dizziness returned with a vengeance.

"Major?" asked Teyla concerned.

"I'm good, just tired. I could sleep for a week," he grinned, but Teyla wasn't fooled.

"Let me help you." She leaned her weight into John, and walked with him as far as the infirmary, sitting him down on a chair next to McKay.

"McKay?" asked Sheppard incredulous. "I leave you alone for one lousy mission, and you can't keep yourself out of trouble? What happened?"

McKay had the good grace to look abashed, but responded in his usual manner.

"I could say the same about you, Major. One mission without me, just one simple straightforward meet and greet and Beckett comes back more dead than alive, and you look like Robinson Crusoe's poor relation."

The two men regarded each other for a moment then McKay relented. "I was trying out a new piece of technology and it blew up in my face. Satisfied? After all, if it hadn't been for my insistence that Beckett be brought back to check me over properly, you might still be on that planet. What about you?"

Sheppard was meanwhile, fascinated with McKay's startling appearance. The snarky scientist's eyes had checked out ok but his face was sunburn red and missing eyebrows. Rodney's hands were bandaged up too. Finally John dragged his gaze away, looking towards the door to the theatre suite.

"Oh," he tried for nonchalance, "One of the Loch Ness monster's long lost cousins decided we looked like lunch. Beckett got pretty well banged up."

"And you?"

"Apart from being fetch and carry boy, I had a run in with another one of the friendly local creatures who decided to use my leg for target practice."

"Hmmm," was all that McKay had to say. A nurse appeared in front of Sheppard, telling him she was just going to get a cubicle prepared and would be right back for him and he wasn't to move. John looked after her mutinously. McKay smirked. "I so envy you, Major," he said. Sheppard scowled, but was secretly glad.

The Major was beginning to feel quite unwell and hoped it wouldn't be long before he could get to his quarters for a decent sleep. He was very, very cold, but hot at the same time; everything ached and he was desperately thirsty. John felt light-headedness return and thought maybe he should eat something, but the resulting nausea after that thought changed his mind. He couldn't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs and his breathing stepped up, though he didn't know it. The headache that had been ever present was now also making itself felt. All in all he was one unhappy bunny.

Elizabeth Weir chose that moment to arrive in the infirmary to check on Carson and Sheppard. Seeing John sat next to McKay, she stopped there first.

"Major Sheppard?" she asked.

Sheppard lifted his head at her question, looking at her with an unfocused gaze. "'Lizbeth?" he slurred.

She looked at him more closely; McKay stopped staring at his laptop and transferred his attention to the Major too.

"John?" she asked, more gently.

"Don' feel so…good…" he replied, then gently slipped off the chair to land in an ungainly heap at her feet.

"I need some help in here!" she shouted, falling to her knees beside him. The nurse who had spoken to Sheppard a couple of minutes previously rushed over. Elizabeth recognized her as Debbie, a nurse who had helped care for her on one of her fortunately infrequent stays here. Another nurse joined her.

"What happened?" Debbie asked Elizabeth.

"I don't know I was talking to him when he just…passed out." McKay made a soft noise that sounded like 'fainted' but was ignored.

Debbie gave Sheppard a brief check then turned to the second nurse. "Go get Dr. Lawrence, we need him here now."

"But he's in surgery."

"I know, but he's got to come as soon as possible, or send someone else. I think the Major's in trouble." The second nurse bolted for the theatre. "Dr. Weir, do you think you could help me get him somewhere more comfortable? "

Elizabeth nodded in the affirmative and between them they managed to get Sheppard's unconscious form onto one of the beds. It wasn't as difficult as it should have been. Debbie pulled some screens around quickly and began removing some of the Major's clothing, checking vital signs. Elizabeth watched from the sidelines, unsure what to do, but unwilling to leave.

A few minutes later, Dr. Lawrence, still in scrubs strode into their curtained off area. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I came to check on Major Sheppard and Dr. Beckett," replied Elizabeth, "And asked the Major how he was. He just said he didn't feel so good then…hit the floor."

"He didn't look too well when I saw him," said the doctor, "Right, let's get a line in and bloods taken, I need some for culture, as well as the usual. What are his vitals?"

Debbie reeled off a list of figures that meant very little to Elizabeth, but she did recognize that the Major's temperature was very high. Dr. Lawrence asked her politely but firmly to wait outside, which she did, going to sit with McKay, who had given up all pretence at working on his laptop and waited with Elizabeth, worrying about their friends.

After a while, a commotion in the area set aside for Dr. Beckett announced his arrival from surgery. Elizabeth wandered over to find out how he was doing. The doctor who was with him at the time was one the diplomat wasn't so familiar with, though just in time, she remembered his name.

"Dr. Johnson?" she asked.

Dr. Johnson smiled at her query. "He'll be fine, given time," he said. "He had a nasty fracture of his femur, but it's been pinned and plated and will be as good as new once it's healed. A couple of broken ribs, a concussion, bad bruising just about everywhere and an infection on top of all that, but we got him back in time. Lots of rest, lots of antibiotics, and eventually he'll be fine."

The doctor left and Elizabeth gazed sadly down at her friend. He was sleeping peacefully now, but still looked pale to her eyes. Tubes and wires were going in and coming out; doing things that Elizabeth didn't want to know. The constant beep, beep, beep of the cardiac monitor was vaguely reassuring, in a way, so she took hold of his hand and sat with him waiting for news on Major Sheppard.

It seemed a long time later, Beckett hadn't moved at all when a very tired-looking Dr. Lawrence came to talk to her. She gently let go of Carson's hand and walked with him to a more private place.

"Major Sheppard appears to be very sick," he said without preamble. "I'm not exactly sure what is going on, it could be septicaemia developing, or it could be some kind of toxin from the spines in his leg. I won't know for sure until I can get them out and send them for analysis. We're trying to stabilise him for surgery now."

"Spines in his leg?"

"Yes, according to Teyla, the Major told her he was attacked by an animal that left behind some spines or barbs in his leg. He's been walking around on them for nearly 48 hours and either some kind of toxin is attacking his system, or they've introduced some pretty aggressive bacteria into his bloodstream."

"Will he be okay?" she asked, stricken.

"If the antibiotics we're giving him get on top of the infection soon, and if he doesn't develop any complications, then I'm cautiously optimistic."

"And if he does develop complications?" Elizabeth dreaded the answer, but wanted to know.

Dr. Lawrence hesitated. "Dr. Weir," he said, "I won't try to pull the wool over your eyes. If it is septicaemia, it's a very serious infection, carrying a high mortality rate. On the positive side, Major Sheppard is young and very fit. On the negative…well, the wound was left unattended too long. We just have to wait and see."

Elizabeth sat on the arm of the chair Rodney had insisted was placed between Dr. Beckett's and Sheppard's beds. The Major and Carson had neighbouring cubicles where an intensive care area had been set up. McKay was sitting between them, scorched hair sticking up at unnatural angles. His laptop was open, but it was mainly for show, the scientist hadn't done anything cognisant with it for quite a while.

Sitting where he was, Rodney had cardiac monitors and ventilators going in stereo, the soft whooshing and beeping strangely reassuring, proof that the two otherwise unnaturally still men were still alive. It was hard to know just looking at them which was the worse off. Beckett's face was pale, contrasting nicely with the colourful bruising all down one side of it, while Major Sheppard's face, also pale, was covered in purplish blotches caused by the disease process raging in his body.

Both men had IVs going, but if lines going in were a contest, then the Major was a shade ahead, having one going into the vein in the side of his neck as well as each arm. Both of them had multiple bags of fluids hanging, but again it seemed Sheppard was ahead on colour variation.

Elizabeth looked down at Rodney. "Any change?"

He shook his head. "Dr. Lawrence stopped by a while ago and said that barring any unforeseen complications, if they both continue as they are, he'll reduce the sedation and they should hopefully be breathing by themselves tomorrow."

"I suppose that's something," she said, sighing. "Let me know if there's any change."

Rodney nodded, Elizabeth left the infirmary. The physicist turned his attention back to staring at his open laptop. He was getting snippy, and wished his two friends would hurry up and get better. No-one to snark at was getting McKay down.

Several days later……

"Dr. Beckett! If you don't lie still and let me do this, then I'll have you put in restraints!"

"But it…Ow! It hurts!"

"It'll hurt a lot more if you don't-lie-still. There, see? Done."

The curtains rattled back with some force and a red-faced and flustered looking nurse stalked by muttering about how Doctors make the worst patients and should be kept sedated for their own safety.

Sheppard watched her go then turned his attention to Carson who was looking no less flushed.

"Thanks Doc.," he said. "She's got to come back and do me next." He smirked at Beckett's obvious discomposure. "Still, she and I have a thing going, you know?" he winked salaciously.

Whatever Carson may have been going to say to that was never to be found out as McKay bounded into their room, chewing on the ever present power bar. He looked pleased with himself. Both patients looked at him expectantly. "Well?" encouraged Major Sheppard.

"Yes, I am, thank you," replied McKay, pulling up a chair with a horrible screeching noise.

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh? Really? Ah. Never mind. I'm getting out."

"Out?"

"Yes. Back to normality."

Carson muttered something about normality not being something McKay usually had to deal with. Rodney ignored him.

"Yes, so, I just came to say goodbye and to pass on a message. Dr Lawrence says to tell you, Carson, that as the nurses are imminently threatening industrial action if any of them have to come near you within the next four hours, he's coming to give you a bed bath himself."

Carson paled. "Ach, ye cannae mean it man," he burbled, accent thickening in anticipated horror.

McKay beamed. "Oh, but I do. And he said to tell you, Major that if any more of the female staff complain about your…er…comments during certain procedures, he'll have Sergeant Bates escort them while they do their duty. Oh, is that the time? Got to go! Things to do."

McKay ignored their horrified stares and bounced out of the infirmary, giving a 'thumbs up' sign to Dr. Lawrence as he excited.

Back to normal.

The End.


End file.
